Obligate Carnivores
by Wega the blue sun
Summary: Bobby contemplates cats, 'dogs and the elusive quality of love and mercy.


Obligate carnivores

A Law&Order: Criminal Intent fan fic by Wega the blue sun. No copyright infringement is intended, the L&O:CI characters don't belong to me, only their copyright holders and I'm making no profit from the use of said characters. Only the original characters belong to me, and naturally, I'm making no profit from them either. TNR is a real program, and a really good one, definitely worth checking out.

Bobby contemplates cats, 'dogs and the elusive quality of love and mercy.

"So, you doing all right today, Karl?", Bobby Goren asked as the elderly man handed him a hot dog sandwich smothered in every condiment his little cart held. As soon as the sandwich changed owners the layers of ketchup, two kinds of mustard, onions, relish, chili and cheese mingled into a lumpy mess. He knew from experience that the hot dog would still taste great, but it looked awful, rather unappetizing. Somehow this never happened when the vendor assembled it, Karl had the uncanny ability to make and balance several hot dogs without mixing up even the runniest toppings. It was a special skill, aquired from years of practise, Bobby thought as Karl daintily placed a stack of crisp white napkins on top of a small bag of potato chips resting on the bench next to where he sat.

"Thanks for asking. I'm fine, and I hope you're, too? Now tell me when you want the pop, I'll keep it cold until then", Karl said with a smile. "Can you believe how hot it is today? Not too many people out and about, that's bad for business, but at least we can talk undisturbed!" Bobby nodded, his mouth too full to attempt an answer. It was the little things the 'dogman did for his customers, such as his pleasant willingness to chat and attention paid to little things like keeping a soda cold for maximum enjoyment that kept him coming back to Karl. And the way the old guy called a soda a pop, that was nice, too, Bobby thought and wiped the relish from his chin before it could drip onto his shirt. "Delicious", he mumbled, confident that Karl had heard him, although he seemed a bit distracted. Something behind the bench had caught the old man's attention,  
and it was a full minute later that he began to assemble another sandwich.

Bobby felt a strong urge to turn around to see what Karl was looking at, but quickly suppressed it. Instead he decided to use his detective skills, just this once for fun. "How come I never see you eat a hot dog, Karl? I mean, these are great, the best in town. Honestly, I could eat ten, but I have to watch it", he said and patted his belly before he tore open the potato chip bag. "I'm glad you like them so much", Karl said politely, his eyes still fastened on the thing in the distance. "Are you sure you don't want another? Oh, and here's your pop!"

The soft drink was so cold that Bobby's fingers stuck to the can briefly, a strange feeling, but he liked it. "Yeah, I want another, but I better keep it to two. It's a good thing my partner isn't here to see me stuff myself like this", he grinned at the old man. Not that Eames would care if he ate everything in sight, if anything she'd fight him for a 'dog or two. "I guess you don't want to eat up your profits? Or maybe you're just sick of hot dogs by now", he continued and took a sip from the soda, enjoying the sharp sweetness of the icy drink.

"Well, to tell you the truth I never was crazy about hot dogs, but that isn't the reason why I don't eat them. Maybe I shouldn't tell you - don't get the wrong idea now, but I wouldn't touch them with a ten foot pole. And not because there's anything wrong with them. I buy only the best quality ingredients and keep everything sparkling clean, just like the city requires", Karl added hastily. "I refuse to eat them for ethical reasons, simple as that."

"You're a vegetarian?", Bobby asked. "Yes, and have been for many years. I don't want to spoil your appetite, but the animals whose flesh makes up these sausages suffer terribly throughout their life, I can hardly bear to think of it.", Karl said. Well, that explained why he didn't serve kosher hot dogs, surely he objected about the slaughter methods used, Bobby considered. "It must be difficult to sell then, if the 'dogs bring suffering to your mind", he said and took a deep drink from the sweating can.  
"True, it's a burden, but I'm also realistic. While I'd prefer to sell tofu pops, hot dogs bring in the money.", Karl said, his face somber. "It's ironic though, because from the profits I send donations to charities that care for abandoned, sick and abused farm animals. They take them to their farms, treat their wounds and keep them in healthy, peaceful surroundings for life. So while my contributions come from blood money it goes to a good cause, and that's what truly matters. What do you think?"

Bobby hesitated for a moment. The conversation was going along a different track than he'd expected, and he still didn't know what was being his bench. Whatever it was remained there because Karl had stopped talking, his gaze focused again on the distance. Suddenly a strange feeling overcame Bobby, similar to the sensation of having someone look over his shoulder. No, it was more like being stared at, he thought and turned around, forgetting all about his intention to get the information out of Karl. In the bushes a few yards behind his bench crouched a small shape, but before he could get a good look the creature disappeared into the shadows of the dense undergrowth.

"He's very shy. The only reason he's here is because I haven't given him his daily treat yet. Would you excuse me for a moment?", Karl asked and pulled a small plastic bag out of the lower compartment of the card. He slowly walked towards the place where the animal had been. And while the 'dogman was small of stature he obscured Bobby's view just enough, so it was only when Karl had returned that Bobby saw two bowls on the ground. With a questioning look he turned to Karl, who put a finger to his lips and then pointed to the bowls. "Fresh water and the treat. There he comes, see?"

Slowly the small shape crept out of the shadows and towards the bowls, and Bobby saw that it was a grey striped cat, long, lean and very suspicious. The cat carefully inspected the contents of the first bowl and quickly grabbed a mouthful. He leveled a baleful green glare at Bobby as he ate, chewing the pale, fluffy stuff with it's sharp carnivore teeth as if it were prime steak. "What is that? Looks almost like bread!", Bobby asked in a hushed voice.

"Torn-up hot dog buns. For some reason he and several other cats I know are crazy about bread, the softer and plainer it is, the better they like it", Karl whispered. Bobby smiled. Maybe Karl didn't know that cats are obligate carnivores, maybe he wasn't aware they required a diet high in animal protein in order to stay healthy. He didn't particularily like cats, or animals in general, but even he knew that. And he also knew that the 'dogman loved the tom cat with the scarred face,  
the expression in Karl's eyes was proof enough.

"I like all animals, but there's something about cats I just adore. To me they're perfectly beautiful, a masterpiece of design and function. I never tire of being around them", Karl said, a smile hovering on his lips.  
"You ever tried feeding him something else? Maybe he'd like canned pet food, or a hot dog to go with the bun", Bobby suggested.  
"Oh, he's had a can already today, and he won't touch hot dogs. I guess he can smell what's in them, the fillers and chemicals and all that junk. There's a feeding station further up, and this is my day to feed the colony. Do you know what TNR means? You ever heard of it"  
Bobby nodded, he was quite familiar with the concept of trap, neuter and return. An ex-girlfriend had been a devoted member of a cat rescue group, and she'd introduced him to the innovative program, or rather, she'd tried to.

"Yeah, I know about TNR, a friend of mine works with a group doing that in the Bronx. So how big is this colony? I've never seen any cats here and I go through this park all the time", he said, wondering if he should have a third hot dog after all.  
"Well, the reason you haven't noticed any cats is because the colony in the park is well maintained. We - the volunteers, that is, control the number of animals by trapping and sterilizing any newcomers. As the older animals pass on of natural causes, the colony shrinks. There haven't been any kittens born here in quite some time", Karl said gravely. "Also, we keep the area clean and neat so the public and city stay happy. TNR is a good program, the best I've ever been involved with. Most people want to help a starving cat, but just providing food isn't enough, there has to be population control. Cats are profilific breeders, and while their instincts are still strong, domesticated cats can't just revert to the wild and take care of themselves. And feral cats are unsuited as pets, they are essentially wild animals. Very young kittens can be domesticated, but the older ones stay wild. It's kinder to keep them where they are, provided they are sterilized and their health needs are monitored. Old Aubergine here is the last entire tom of the colony, and I'm going to trap him tonight. The vet's waiting for you, boy!", Karl said and the cat blinked while it finished the last of the hot dog bun.

"Why do you call him Aubergine?", Bobby asked. In his eyes the grey tom didn't resemble an eggplant in the least. "Well, at first I was going to call him Mr. Granny Smith, on account of his eyes being the exact color of those sour apples. But that would be silly, he's a male after all, not a granny!", Karl chuckled softly. "Actually, I named all the cats in the colony, and when he showed up I couldn't think of a good name, I'd used up all my favorites. But I like eggplants, and well,  
everything sounds better in French, right?"

Bobby grinned. Mandy, his ex, would love this old guy and his excentric cat naming system, he was so similar to her as far as attitude and determination were concerned. Mandy was excentric too, and proud to call herself a cat lady, wearing the moniker as a badge of honor. She was also funny and beautiful and a great dancer, and while they got along great for some time, they'd broken up because of the cats, he recalled as Karl recited the name of every animal in the colony. It was an impressive list. What was Mandy doing these days, he wondered, she was probably even more devoted to her pet cause. Maybe he should give her a call, invite her out for a drink and dancing afterwards. By now she'd hopefully forgiven him for all the stupid things he'd said back then. And he had enough distance to be more tolerant of the time she devoted to rescuing cats in her neighborhood.  
Then he'd considered it a sentimental waste of time. Why do it when there were animal control workers trained and paid to deal with strays? Mandy was quick to point out that the cats would be killed at the shelter, adoption wasn't an option for most animals, even if there were enough good homes available. And that's when things began to deteriorite between them.  
He resented the cats for taking up her precious spare time, suggesting it would be best spent with him, but Mandy very correctly pointed out that he was entitled to spend his off time however he liked, so why wasn't she? And soon later they split, Mandy returned to the cats and he to his neverending work, his trusted antidote when life and people let him down.

"Where I live I'm not allowed to keep pets, so I consider all the homeless animals of the city my pets", Karl said while he tore another hot dog bun into small pieces. "And does this city ever have an overpopulation problem! Wherever I can help, is my motto, and taking care of this colony as well as others is my calling. Luckily there are many others who feel the same way, who want to help innocent animals that have been abused and discarded. Sure, it's a big job but we're making a difference. Sometimes, like when I read of dreadful case of animal abuse I want to despair, but then I remember the good things me and my friends have done and are still doing every day, and all the animals whose lives we've improved."

Bobby nodded, remembering how Mandy had said precisely the same on several occasions, but instead of appreciating her efforts he'd stubbornly argued with her, going as far as comparing animal abuse with crimes against people. The look in her eyes when the words "just a cat" came out of his mouth had cut him like a knife. It was probably that very instance she'd stopped loving him. Bobby frowned, wondering why he'd said something that stupid. Maybe it was the drinks he'd had, or more likely he'd said it on purpose because he'd wanted to hurt her. His jealousy of anything that occupied her, anything that wasn't him or connected to him, made him lash out. Bobby looked up at Karl, still tearing up the hot dog bun.  
"I can tell you understand, but not everyone does. Recently a man spat at me because he saw me feeding the cats. He said they were vermin, that they were killing the birds and I should be arrested. I tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen. I just don't understand this kind of hate. How can you love one kind of animal and hate another? I don't get it."

Bobby shrugged. There was little point in analyzing the prejudices of a particular individual, but he understood Karl's attitude well. He and Mandy were the same type, kind hearted and deeply troubled by the casual cruelty he'd come to expect. He'd hardened himself by exposure to some of the worst offenses there were, but occasionally even he was surprised by the terrible things people did. He knew that many criminals have a history of animal abuse, knew that cruelty to animals's a marker, a big blinking sign indicating trouble was ahead.

So it wasn't his lack of knowledge, but rather what Mandy considered an arrogant attitude she hated, and rightly so. It was almost funny how two intelligent people with the best intentions were incapable of communicating. If he was dismissive of her feelings, she failed to understand his as well. He was a people-centric person and preferred to interact with his own species,  
that would never change. But maybe he'd overlooked something that people like Karl and Mandy already knew, Bobby thought as he watched the 'dogman creep towards the grey tomcat with the silly name, murmuring endearments all the while. No doubt the elderly man considered the half-wild cat bearing the scars of many fights precious and deserving of his time and resources, and why not? Doing this gave Karl a purpose, it eased the suffering of the animals, reduced their numbers and kept the area clean and healthy. Bobby watched as the tough old tom abandoned his crouched position to investigate the pieces of hot dog bun Karl was offering. Showing little interest in the food, Aubergine pressed his lean body against Karl's leg while the 'dogman gently stroked the cat's round head. Unconditional love, Mandy had said, animals never lie about love, implying that he did. Or maybe he just interpreted it like that, but the look she'd given him was anything but loving.  
"Yeah, you're a good boy", Karl said softly as the cat wound himself around his legs and a deep purr reverberated in the air, a sound of pure delight. Aubergine blinked his apple green eyes, reminding Bobby how Mandy had always claimed this too was an expression of love. A moment later the cat was gone like a puff of smoke, alarmed by the sound of voices coming closer.

"You've got customers", Bobby said and pulled his wallet out. Karl quickly gathered up the bowls, returned to his cart where he stashed them and cleaned his hands with an antiseptic wipe. He took the offered 20 bill, but before he could make change, Bobby waved him off. "No, that's ok, keep it", he said. "Thanks, that very kind of you. It was nice talking to you!", Karl said politely before he turned to take orders from the group of foreign tourists eager for the taste of a real New York hot dog.

During his walk through the park Bobby looked around for signs of the colony, but he found none. Nor was the park devoid of song birds, their voices rang in the hot air, so the cats had not yet brought down their numbers. Mandy always maintained that habitat destruction and even tall buildings were greater hazards than feral cats, but even she had to grudgingly admit that every now and then cats hunted and killed birds. They were after all obligate carnivores, and like Karl had said, their instinct were still strong. So what of his own instincts? Why had he given Karl the tip, knowing the money would go towards the cats, or even the rescued farm animals. Was it that Karl's herculian effort to make right what carelessness and cruelty had wrought touched his heart? Or was it just a sentimental slip-up, quite out of character for him?  
By now he'd left the park and entered busy streets. There were tall buildings ahead, guilty of killing birds and alleys filled with cats leading short, miserable lives. Maybe a member of that subculture of kindness would reach out to them with a compassion that was rare nowadays. But wasn't mercy often an afterthought, if that? And wasn't it more precious because of its rarity?  
Bobby grinned. He would give Mandy a call, he still remembered her number. Maybe she missed him too, maybe she'd out with him. And this time he'd make a point of asking very sweetly if she was still involved with TNR, because he wanted to tell her about Karl and the colony and old Aubergine. He had a feeling she'd like to hear about them.


End file.
